


Survivor's Guilt

by beenotafraid



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Post-Second War with Voldemort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 20:38:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16182758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beenotafraid/pseuds/beenotafraid
Summary: Inspired by a headcanon of unknown origin: "Straight after the war, not all was well. Harry was conflicted over intense feelings of guilt and remorse for the people who had fought with him, even going as far as to say he wished he’d never met the Weasleys. Ginny promptly punched him in the nose."





	Survivor's Guilt

The sun hung low in the pink sky over The Burrow. Harry Potter sat on the bench under one of the huge oak trees in the backyard, with his head in his hands. 

It had been two weeks since the battle. Funerals had been held, titles had been passed down to new people, and plans had begun for reconstruction of the castle. But still, Harry’s guilt did not ebb. People had put their lives in danger because of _him_. Had been wounded. Had _died_. Because of him.

Harry heard the door slam behind him, but didn’t look up. It wasn’t until he felt someone sit down beside him that he turned. 

“Everyone’s looking for you, you know. Mum does a headcount every five minutes now. Like she thinks someone else is going to be gone any second.” Ginny shrugs, not looking at him, but instead out at the candy floss sky, to the barely visible chimneys of Ottery St. Catchpole. “I guess it takes longer than two weeks to get over things like that.”

“Don’t joke, Gin,” Harry says, voice deeper and more gravelly than usual. She looks over at him. Her eyes search his face, looking for something he can’t guess. Then she shakes her head.

“You can’t keep doing this, Harry,” she says in a whisper. “You can’t keep acting like every damn thing that happened in this war is your fault. Wars happen. People die. It’s nobody’s fault but the enemy’s. And he’s gone.”

Harry stands up and glares down at her. “You don’t get it, Ginny,” he says, his voice rising. “The entire war _started_ because of me! Voldemort wouldn’t have even come back if it hadn’t been for me. No one would have shown up at Hogwarts. Hundreds of people would still be safe and _alive_!” He’s been yelling, but at this, his voice breaks. His arms drop to his sides and he looks at her pleadingly. “Tonks and Remus…and Fred. Would still be alive. Your family would still be _whole_. If it hadn’t been for me…”

He trails off and looks down at the ground. “Sometimes…I wish I hadn’t even met your family.”

It’s over before he ever sees it coming. One second he’s looking up to meet Ginny’s eyes and the second he’s doubled over, blinded by pain. It’s almost a minute before he realizes that she’s just punched him in the face.

He blinks back tears, hands still over his nose, holding together the two pieces of his now broken glasses, and looks up at her. She’s defiant, arms crossed, face as blazing as the time she tore across the crowded room to kiss him. 

“WHAT WAS THAT FOR?!” Her eyes narrow. “I _never_ want to hear you say something like that. Ever. Again. Do you understand me?” She raises her eyebrows, but it’s not a real question. “I love you. My entire _family_ loves you. No one blames you for anything, especially not Fred’s death.” 

For a second, her expression softens. She stares into his eyes, as pleadingly as he had hers before. The look reaffirms everything she’s just said, tenfold. Then she’s back to serious. “I’ll go get you some ice for your face.”

With that she turns on her heel and leaves him in the fading light, sore-faced and totally in love.


End file.
